Gun
by Swedish15
Summary: Ergo Proxy: On their way to Mosque, Real, Vincent and Pino encounter a deadly PROXY. Warnings: Dark, Violence, Character Deaths, Spoilers up to episode 14.


_Gun_ by Swedis15  
Disclaimer: I do not own Ergo Proxy.  
A/N: Thanks to my beta nekare.

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He should have known. Didn't he warn himself?  
Well, sometimes warnings are not enough. He should have acted on them, but he was too weak, too gentle. Far too much Vincent and not enough Ergo Proxy. Or maybe the other way round.

He fears for Real. Didn't he give her the gun back for exactly this situation? Now she's lying on the cold floor, broken, hurt, a heap of limbs. Pino's head is beside her, frozen in a state of continuous surprise, the wirings from her neck still sparking.

They were traveling to Mosque, on that reliant ship called Centzon, over the wasteland and under the dark sky. It was... normal, in a way. It was a habit. It was everyday life. He can recall their sleeping arrangements - circling a camp fire, never too close, never that far away. They were no family - Real made that sufficiently clear. But they had a companionship, the monster, the hunter and the machine. And all - well, maybe not Pino, but Real and him – had the same goal; they wanted the truth, the full truth and nothing less.

And each and every night, it seemed as if the gap between Real and him grew smaller. He pretended not to know when she smiled upon him, even if his clumsiness made it still obvious. She pretended to be oblivious to him staring at her. But they both knew, on some kind of level, and he likes to think that neither of them wanted to turn away from each other.

When they arrived at yet another ruin, it was three weeks after the strange incident with the city and the doubles. They left the ship and went scavenging, looking for food and water. Real seemed more than a little hungry and more than a little pissed over their lack of Ginger Ale. Vincent still doesn't know whether he eats out of habit or whether his body, driven by the Amrita cells, really needs it.

They were on guard, naturally, or better said, Real was. Pino jumped around gleefully, dancing and smiling, while he was looking for other people. But there was nothing and nobody. Finally, they found a deserted supermarket, and again pioneered the trolleys to forage its supplies.

Real's comment on some magazines comes to his mind, but not her exact wording. Still, somehow these words triggered the killing.

It came out of nowhere. It was a PROXY, of course – just like the other five PROXYs they had battled. With its first, quick strike it decapitated Pino before anyone knew what was happening, even Vincent himself. Then he descended like an angry bird of prey on Real, and ripped her weapons away before she had fully turned around. Vincent remembers his helplessness and the shocked look in Real's eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything while this vile monster started to choke his victim.

Now, her breathing gets more and more shallow, the blue eyeshadow washes away with her tears. She lifts her arm to strike the monster, but her strength is sapped and so it comes across as nothing but a soft, almost loving touch.

Why had Real trusted him? He is useless, he can't do anything, he can only watch her fight her fear.

It's her touch that lets Vincent break free, and the monster reacts by letting Real fall to ground; her eyes are closed, now, and for a second he thinks she's dead, but then he sees the small heaving of her chest. He runs to the pistol, which is loaded with the last remaining FP bullet, grabs it, and points it at the enemy – the murderer.

The monster taunts him, laughs at him. "You think you can kill me", it says with its strangely deep voice. The bastard hurt Real. It killed Pino (and somehow, kill sounds correct). Vincent's not going to let him get away, even if this special PROXY is his enemy right now.

He's still pointing the gun – Real's gun – at the swirling cape and the bone-white mask. He's got only one shot to save the life of the woman he loves. He cannot, will not waste it. So he points it at the one weak point of this PROXY, away from the image his deceived eyes are seeing and at his own head.

He pulls the trigger, without remorse. He only hopes Real'll survive, get home again, give up this foolish search for truth, but he knows she won't, and deep inside his black heart, he's glad she is so stubborn.

Then, darkness.


End file.
